


The Thing From Their Nightmares

by TiyeTiye



Series: Things That Go Bump In The Night [1]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Battle, Beowulf influences, Child Abandonment, Just a Little Bit of Peril, Monsters, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Vikings, things that go bump in the night - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 15:41:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12192789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiyeTiye/pseuds/TiyeTiye
Summary: When a monster that only a descendant of Odin can see begins to attack Kattegat, after Rollo and Ragnar abandon them and Bjorn is gravely injured, it's up to Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, and Ivar to defend their home.





	The Thing From Their Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Descriptions of blood and gore, battle imagery, child abandonment, a really gross monster

You needed the blood of Odin to see it. 

Which meant that to kill it, you also had to carry the blood of Odin in your veins. 

They’d known about it ever since they were children. Had heard their father and their uncle battle it month after month from their spots barricaded inside Kattegat’s great hall with the rest of the town’s citizens. Packed shoulder to shoulder inside, sleeping on the floor, on benches, on and under the great dining tables with everyone they knew because to be outside on the nights when the moon was a sharp silver knife in the sky meant death. Listening to the thing’s inhuman shrieks and roars, Ragnar and Rollo’s shouts, praying that whatever it was the _thing_ would not get inside. It had come close several times while they were growing up, throwing itself at the barred doors hard enough to make the entire hall shake, but never once had it gotten in. 

They knew what it could do. Had seen with their own eyes what the monster had done to those who didn’t heed the warnings - travelers from across the seas or the odd Christian priest who thought their tales to be nothing more than evil lies. Arms ripped from sockets, heads smashed to jelly, flesh sliced and ripped open, blood painting the walls. 

And it took their hearts. It always took their hearts. 

It had first appeared just after their father had become Earl, after he had killed old Earl Haraldson and taken his throne. One rumor said that the creature was the result of a curse laid down by the old earl’s wife, Siggy, but their uncle Rollo had killed the first man who dared say such a thing in his presence and that rumor had retreated into the shadows. Other people in Kattegat whispered that the monster and the killings were a punishment from the gods for turning away from them, for putting their faith in the Christian God, in the Jesus of Nazareth. Whatever it was, it came every month with the crescent moon and it was always, _always hungry_. 

Ragnar and Rollo fought it together for years, gaining new scars on their bodies with each passing battle, but in the end it was Rollo who broke first. He was tired, tired of fighting the monster, of being called to face it time after time, of never being allowed to just _be safe._ So he left. He abandoned his brother, his family, and his people, and he just _left_. Ran off to France with that Christian woman of his, leaving Ragnar to battle the thing alone. 

The first month after Rollo’s abandonment, Ragnar had tried to face the monster by himself. His wounded pride wouldn’t let him ask any of his sons for help, and he nearly lost his life for it. One of the creature’s claws had caught him across the face, nearly taking his eye, and another had sliced open his shield arm. It was only dumb luck that allowed him, half-blind, to drive the thing off once again, chasing it away into the darkness until it disappeared into a deep pool. 

After that, it was Bjorn’s turn to join in on the defense of Kattegat. He was 18 at the time, old enough to raid, and like his father a descendant of Odin. He and Ragnar could see the creature when no one else could, so it fell to them now to defend their people. Ubbe and Hvitserk had begged to help defend their mother and their people, claiming that they too were old enough, but the idea was squashed. They were still too young. No, they would have to wait. Wait and pray for their family’s safety. When they were 18, then they too would be allowed to face the creature. 

It took his brothers more than a few rounds of begging and cajoling and whining after Bjorn’s first time seeing it, but eventually he told his younger brothers about the monster. They were also descendants of Odin. They needed to know. If only to be able to run and hide, or to warn him or their father if they ever caught a glimpse of it one night as the moon began to rise. 

It was shaped roughly like a man, but in a way that was _wrong_. Taller even than their Uncle Rollo and muscled like a bear, its skin was the gray-green of a rotten corpse, completely hairless, and covered in a foul slime that _dripped_ off it as it moved throughout the town. Its knees were bent backwards and it went about on all fours - on the ground, clawing up the walls, bounding over the rooftops. Its head was too big, wider and longer than a man’s, and covered in sharp spines. Where a man might have fingers it had long wicked claws that it could rear up to bring to bear, and in its wide mouth it carried teeth sharper than any wolf’s. And its _eyes,_ the thing’s eyes burned, glowed in the darkness with the fires of Muspelheim. Its eyes were what gave it away as it crept out of the night searching for people to tear apart and hearts to devour. 

Fire would burn it. Steel would cut it. Monster it might have been, but cut it and it would bleed. Ragnar and Rollo, and later Ragnar and Bjorn had managed to wound the creature many times, but never badly enough to kill it. Every time they would close in, swords held high, ready to finish it off once and for all, it would turn and run, back to its same deep pool in the woods. 

Over and over the cycle went, until one night Ragnar just _broke_. The cycle was too much, he had been fighting the monster for too many years, and he just couldn’t do it anymore. So he left. Just like his brother. One night, after their latest duel with the creature, after what seemed like hours of shouts and shrieks and the creature’s long, blood-curdling cries, Ragnar and Bjorn had called into the hall for the door to be opened, to let everyone know they were safe now. They'd come in, weary and bruised and spattered with the creature’s black blood. Bjorn had collapsed on top of a table near the great hearth and immediately fallen asleep even as Thorunn checked him over for injuries, pushing and pulling at him to be sure he hadn’t been wounded. Ragnar had stumbled through the hall to his chambers in the back of the building and collapsed onto his bed, but in the morning he was gone. He’d left his sword and shield behind and abandoned his family just like their uncle Rollo. 

They had less than a month for the shock and the anger to wear off. Less than a month to come to terms with their father’s betrayal. As the days dragged on his brothers noticed a growing tightness in Bjorn’s face, a new strain in the line of his shoulders. He was the only one now. The only one who could defend them from the thing.

And to the astonished relief of everyone, Bjorn did just that. For years he stood alone in front of the doors to the great hall, defying the monster as it tried to rip him apart, break down the doors, and kill everyone he’d ever known. He must have had the strength of Thor himself and all of Tyr’s skill in battle, but somehow, for _years_ , he did it. 

Until one night when his luck ran out. He’d been just a moment too slow, had slipped in the sand in front of the doors, and the creature had surged forward and driven its claws into his chest. As it leaned down to sink its teeth into his neck Bjorn had dropped his sword, reached down to his belt for a knife and driven it into the creature’s eye, screaming as the fires within sizzled his fingers. The creature had released him with a shriek that echoed through the night, yanked its claws out of Bjorn’s chest, and disappeared from Kattegat. 

That had been a month ago. They still weren’t sure if Bjorn would live or not. He lay in Ragnar’s old champers in the back of the hall, watched over by Thorunn and Lagertha and Aslaug, with his chest and hand wrapped in bandages, and his breathing making a labored, whistling noise. Countless citizens of Kattegat had prayed and sacrificed to the gods, asking them to spare their defender, but the moon still turned and Bjorn wasn’t getting any better. 

None of the sons of Ragnar had found the monster’s body as they searched the woods the morning after Bjorn nearly died. So by the next new moon Ubbe, backed up by his brothers, had overridden their mother’s objections and asked the people of Kattegat to all assemble in the hall again. The youngest sons of Ragnar were going to keep them safe and, with the blessing of the gods, finish what their father had started. 

And now, here they were. All four of them. Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, even Ivar, the youngest, hauled up to the roof of the hall with a longbow and enough arrows to fell a small army. They were too young, all of them, Ubbe was just barely 18 himself. Far too young to face the monster that had haunted their nightmares all their lives. But there was no one else now. 

It was a cold night, with a soft wind coming on off the fjord. The area all around the hall had been ringed with torches, with enough set by to burn until dawn. The stars and the long talon of the new moon were hidden by scudding clouds, so while the twenty or so long paces around the hall were lit up as bright as day, beyond that it was blacker than Helheim. 

Beyond the hissing and popping of the torches and the scuff of their own footsteps it was utterly silent. Not a single wolf howled in the woods, not an single owl hooted in the night, not a single child cried out in fear from inside the hall. The people of Kattegat and all the creatures of the woods beyond were frozen, waiting. Like the rabbit that senses the fox, they knew that a hunter from another realm had come for them, a demon thing with an endless hunger, and all that they could do was hide. 

It was well past midnight now, and still no sign of the creature. Twice the brothers had made a full circuit of the hall together to light fresh torches. In the past the thing had always attacked much earlier, just after the crescent moon rose over the fjord, but the moon was now high in the sky and still the brothers had seen nothing. 

“Ivar, do you see anything?” Ubbe called up to him, trying to hide his impatience. 

“No, nothing yet,” the youngest Ragnarsson called down to them, trying to hide the trembling in his voice. He had fought long and hard to be out there with his brothers, argued for _hours_ with his mother and Ubbe, and he was _not_ going to ruin his newly granted status as a warrior and a true son of Odin by looking _scared_ in front of his brothers. 

It was Sigurd who saw the monster first. Perhaps something of the dragon their famous grandfather had killed really had entered into his eye and blessed him with better sight, for he was the first to spot the creature as it slunk around the hall, just barely crossing into the field of light cast by the torches. 

“There! It’s there! By the forges!” he’d screamed, hefting his axes and charging at it, shield bouncing along on his back. 

“Sigurd, wait!” Ubbe called after him, sprinting after his little brother, Hvitserk not far behind. 

The monster looked up at Sigurd as the boy charged toward it. The fires of Muspelheim burned in only one of its eyes now, and from where the other had been dripped a foul yellow puss. It _hissed_ at them as the boys ran towards it, like it was confused at facing these new, smaller defenders, before scuttling up the wall of the blacksmith’s and disappearing over the roof. 

Sigurd slowed to a halt as the creature disappeared, and Ubbe barreled into him hard enough to nearly knock him over. 

“ _What was that, idiot?!”_ Ubbe shouted at him, punching his brother in the shoulder to drive his point home. _“We’re supposed to stick together!_ And get your shield out! _”_

“But it was right there! You saw!” Sigurd protested. 

“ _Shut. Up._ ” Ubbe growled at him, shoving his brother back down the lane towards the relative safety of the torchlight, shepherding Hvitserk ahead of them. “Ivar!” he called out, trying to hide the new note of panic in his voice. “Where is it? _Where did it go?_ ” 

“I lost it!” Ivar shouted back. “It was circling back around the markets when it— _look out!”_

Ivar’s shriek saved Ubbe’s life. Hvitserk had made it back beyond the line of torches, with Sigurd right behind him, when the monster came out of the darkness and leapt at Ubbe, claws extended and mouth open. Ubbe had flinched at Ivar’s warning, turning just in time to see it coming at him out of the corner of his eye. He threw his shield up, and the thing knocked him backwards into the square of torchlight in front of the hall. It followed him down, teeth straining to reach his face around the rim of his shield, talons scrabbling to get at his heart through the thick wood. Its weight was so much that Ubbe could barely breathe as he fought to shove it off and the _smell_ coming off it threatened to make him gag. 

Ubbe heard Hvitserk and Sigurd screaming as they ran to his aid, and above it all heard Ivar’s high voice shouting _“Get out of the way! I don’t have a shot! Get out of the way!”_ Then Hvitserk appeared, driving all of his weight into his sword arm, slicing deep into the creature’s back with a scream. The monster roared, rearing back to attack his little brother and Ubbe could finally breathe again. The monster swung a taloned arm at Hvitserk, who nimbly dodged out of the way, dancing around behind it to hack at it again. The monster swung at him again, knocking his little brother away into the dirt, then looked back at Ubbe, who was still scrambling to his feet. The monster roared at him, shifting to leap at his throat again, before an arrow sprouted in its side, closely followed by another. It fell back, scrabbling to yank the arrows out as Ubbe finally got his feet back under him. 

Ivar gave a triumphant shout that quickly died at the creature turned its burning eye upon him. Snarling, it bound across the earth towards the hall where Ivar sat, helpless to get away.

“Ubbe! Ubbe! _Get it!_ ” he screamed, fitting another arrow to his bow. His fumbling, shaking hands made the shot go wide, and still the thing came on. “Hvitserk! Sigurd! _Help me!_ ” he shrieked, hands scrambling for another arrow. The creature threw itself against the wall of the great hall hard enough to shake the building, nearly toppling Ivar from his perch, and the brothers heard a chorus of panicked screams from within as the monster dug its claws into the wood and began to scale the wall. _“Get it! Get it! Make it stop! Help me!”_ Ivar screamed, voice rising higher and higher as the monster climbed closer. 

The creature had dug one set of talons into the roof, pulling itself up to roar at Ivar, before Sigurd threw one of his axes and caught it in the shoulder. It dropped back to the ground with a deep _thud_ they felt in their bones before it snarled at them and scuttled away down the line of the wall, visibly limping now. “Don’t let it get away!” Ubbe shouted, springing after the monster with Hvitserk and Sigurd close behind. He got close enough to slice the tip of his sword through the meat of its thigh, and dodged away when it spun around to rip open his belly. It roared at him and Hvitserk when they pressed close to attack it, yet when Sigurd darted close from its other side to hack at it with his remaining axe, it didn’t react until the axe head had already sliced open its flesh. 

“Its bad eye!” Ubbe shouted. “It’s got a blind side! Attack from the blind side!” 

The brothers shifted around until Hvitserk had joined Sigurd on the creature’s blind side, leaving Ubbe alone under the fire of its one remaining eye. It seemed to realize what they were doing as they began to herd it back they way they’d come, back towards Ivar and his arrows, its snarl growing wider and its roars growing louder, head swiveling from side to side as it tried to keep all three boys in view at once. Slowly, ever so slowly, they pushed it back down the line of the wall, nipping at it like dogs. Every time Hvitserk or Sigurd would dart forward to carve at it again, Ubbe would spring forward just after, pulling its attention back to him before it could strike at his brothers. After what seems like hours but was probably only moments, they had succeeded in pushing it out onto the open ground before the hall. 

“Ivar!” Ubbe screamed. “Help us out here!” He slashed at the creature’s back again, and as it reared back in pain Ubbe heard the arrow’s whistle as it flew through the air to embed itself in the creature’s chest. 

It was getting tired now, its movements just a bit slower, its breathing labored. The ground around them was spattered with its black blood and the slime that dripped off the thing’s skin. Ubbe for a second allowed himself to hope that they might actually kill it, might succeed where even his mighty father had failed. 

The monster’s single eye blazed with fury as Ivar sent yet another arrow into its flesh. It roared loud enough to ring their skulls, before gathering itself and _leaping_ high over their heads, darting away towards the forges and the safety of the woods beyond, but it was too slow this time. Ivar sent another arrow into its back as it ran and his brothers caught it easily. Hvitserk’s sword caught it in the back leg and it went down this time, crashing to the ground. Ubbe leapt forward as it tried to rise, putting all of his weight behind his sword, driving it _through_ the creature’s back and into the earth beneath, pinning it to the ground. 

“Hvitserk, _help me!_ ” Ubbe grunted out, struggling to hold the thrashing monster down. Hvitserk mirrored his brother, thrusting his sword through the creature’s shoulder and digging a knee into its back as it struggled to right itself. 

“Sigurd! Get the head! _Get the head!_ ” Ubbe yelled, shifting his weight as the monster turned its neck and tried to bite his foot off. “Use your axe and cut off its head!” 

Sigurd’s axe glinted in the torchlight at he swung it high and brought it down with all of his might on the thing’s neck. The monster shrieked in pain loud enough to split the night, as Sigurd yanked his axe free and raised it up again. When he brought it down this time, the creature gave a great _jerk_ , before going limp. When Hvitserk looked like he might relax, Ubbe quickly stopped him. 

“No, _stay, stay, stay_!” he urged. “Sigurd, keep going! Take its head off! We have to be sure!” 

His brother nodded grimly, face spattered with the thing’s blood, and raised his axe again. It took another dozen blows before the boy finally separated the monster’s head from its body, and when he did the corpse gave an unnatural _shudder_. Ubbe and Hvitserk yanked their swords up and darted backwards as the corpse began to twitch and jerk. Soon, bubbles appeared in the dead thing’s skin like its body was boiling, and then its flesh started melting away. Slowly it dissolved into the earth, a cloud of steam rising above it, until there was nothing left of it but an ugly black stain on the ground. 

Ubbe slowly looked from Sigurd to Hvitserk. Both of his brothers were wearing dumbfounded looks that probably matched his own. He felt a grin break his face and he started laughing, harder than he’d ever laughed in his entire life. He couldn’t stop. He let his sword fall out of his grip as he collapsed to the ground, arms hugging his sides and whole body shaking with mirth and relief. Hvitserk and Sigurd collapsed laughing beside him a second later. 

Dimly they heard Ivar yelling from somewhere behind them. 

“What happened? Is it gone? Did we get it?” 

“Yes Ivar,” Ubbe shouted up at the crescent moon. “We got it.” 


End file.
